The fuel of life,
Flowing as we cut through time, for what else is there to do?
Going against the paths obviously cut for us,
There is nothing wrong with going against the will of others,
But to be against your own being, what kind of sick mind would do such a thing?
Some of us are lovers, some haters,
Some in places between, others in seats none could imagine,
Every single human an ordinary masterpiece!
Part of a wonderful whole,
Yet so different from the crowd to be considered a being that does not fit in the least bit.
Each work of genius necessary for the complete set to function,
We need them all,
The disturbed murders,
The innocent children,
The people larger than life in the eyes of all,
And the person who is life in the eyes of just one,
Those who do good,
Those who are labeled as felons,
Without them, how else could this world be fueled?
How else could we vibe through our passageway?
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